No Going Back
by bionic4ever
Summary: Jaime is on a personal mission to find answers about her parents' deaths, and to catch their killers. Thanks to Julie for her support and for always being ready to be a sounding board.
1. Chapter 1

**No Going Back**

Chapter One

"Earth to Jaime," Steve said softly, "permission to land in this stratosphere is granted." He peered across the table into eyes that seemed a few million miles away. "Anybody in there?" He watched as she blinked and came slowly back to the present. "Jaime? Are you alright?"

"Huh?" Jaime smiled back at him with confusion in her eyes. "I'm sorry; what were you saying?"

"Where were you, just now?" he asked in a gentle voice. She'd been quiet and pensive all evening, and Steve wasn't able to hide his concern over her un-Jaime-like behavior anymore. "'Cause you sure weren't here. You've barely touched your dinner, and I didn't make it, so I know it's edible." When even humor didn't get a response, he reached over to gently take her hand. "Sweetheart, talk to me – what's wrong?"

"Nothing," she answered, a little too quickly. "Just...not hungry, I guess."

"Well, I've been done for awhile, so how 'bout we take the wine into the other room and just talk awhile?"

"Ok." Jaime followed Steve to the sofa by the fireplace and wordlessly accepted a fresh glass of wine. Steve couldn't help noticing the tears she was trying so hard to hold back.

"Jaime, I love you. Whatever it is..."

Jaime took a deep, shuddering breath. "I wanna know what _really_ happened to my parents."

Steve wrapped a gentle arm around her trembling body and pulled her close, running his fingers softly through her hair as she rested her head on his shoulder. "Sweetheart," he said carefully, "you know all about the crash; you've been to the site."

"Yeah, but I only went to see _where _they died. Now that we know they were murdered -"

"_Presumably _murdered," Steve said quietly.

"Right," Jaime sighed, "but if it's true, no one has ever _paid _for stealing Mom and Dad from a _16-year-old!_ An accident's bad enough – I mean, in one split-second, I'm...an orphan – but if it wasn't an accident..." Jaime sat up straight, suddenly filled with ferocious determination. "Steve, I'm gonna find out who did it, and I'm gonna put them away."

- - - - - -

"I'm sorry, Babe," Oscar said, knowing Jaime wouldn't believe him, "but I've given you everything we have on file about your parents."

"Then help me find what you _don't_ have," Jaime insisted, pacing like a tiger in a cage. "That's the whole point; there are too many missing pieces!" She sighed audibly at Oscar's lack of response. "Ok; my mother was OSI, right?"

"Yes, she was, but -"

"Then where was she supposed to be going, the day they died? That's gotta be _somewhere _in her file!"

Oscar looked at Steve, who'd come along for moral support, as if to say 'help me out here', but Steve merely shrugged. "It was more than ten years ago -"

"_Please_, Oscar..."

"She worked for Oliver Spencer, not for me, but I'll tell you what: I'll have Russ dig through the CDI archives, and I'll call you with whatever he comes up with. Ok?"

Jaime stopped pacing; she knew it was the best he could do for her. "Thank you. And -"

"And I'll have him put a rush on it," Oscar finished for her.

- - - - - -

"Why hasn't he called yet?" Jaime wondered aloud, pacing her living room instead of Oscar's office, but every bit as anxious as she'd been all day. "What's taking so long?"

Steve smiled. "Sweetheart, we just walked in the door ten minutes ago. Russ probably hasn't even gotten into the CDI files yet. Gotta give it some time." He tried to lead her to her favorite chair with a supportive arm around her shoulders. "If you don't sit down, you'll wear us _both_ out."

"It's probably something terrible," Jaime persisted, walking to the phone and then back to the window, staring aimlessly through the glass. "He just doesn't want me to know about it..."

"Oscar wouldn't lie to you – you know that. If he did find something awful, he might tell you he didn't think you should hear it, but he wouldn't just say nothing and he definitely wouldn't lie about it."

"I wish I was back in Ojai right now; then I could drive over to CDI myself and -"

"Russ knows that whole place like the back of his hand," Steve reminded her. "If there's anything buried in those files, he's the best one to have looking for it." His arm moved from Jaime's shoulder to her waist, and the gentle urging turned into a firmer, more insistent tug. "C'mon – just sit down, put your feet up and I'll make you something to eat. I can stay here as long as you need me to." Truth be told, he'd much rather spend his time with Jaime than alone at his own house anyway, but it hurt Steve to see Jaime so restless and upset.

"Thank you," she sighed, sinking down onto the sofa instead of the chair and pulling him down beside her. Steve's other arm moved to completely envelop her, pulling her close. "I'm so glad you're here," she told him softly, curling up with her head resting on his chest. "I don't think I could eat right now, but if you're hungry, go ahead and grab something..."

"Maybe later." Steve held her, tenderly trying to massage the stiffness from her muscles and wishing there was more he could do, for a very long time. They sat in silence, knowing each other so well that every thought and emotion was conveyed without the need for words. Finally, he felt Jaime begin to relax and allow herself to be at least somewhat comforted. Steve bent over and kissed her softly, just as the phone startled them back to reality. "Let me get it," he told her, picking up the receiver before Jaime could protest.

"Hello?"

It was Oscar. "Steve? I'm glad you're still there."

"Did Russ find something?" Steve asked, his other arm still protectively holding Jaime.

"Bring Jaime back to my office, and we'll talk."

"Oscar, what's -"

"When you get here, Pal. I'll be waiting."

- - - - - -


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

"What did Russ find?" Jaime asked before she and Steve were even seated in Oscar's office. "Is it bad? Is that why you couldn't tell me on the phone?"

Oscar was a bit taken aback by her suddenly fragile state of mind. He knew the news he'd given her a month earlier – that her mother had been an operative – had hit her hard, and her mother's double showing up in Ojai, pretending to be Ann Sommers, had more than doubled the impact. After reeling from the initial shock, though, Jaime had seemed to be coping well, especially now that she had Steve to lean on.

When he'd heard the news about Jaime's mother and the double, Chris Stuart, Steve had immediately flown to Ojai to support Jaime in any way he could. They'd begun growing closer in the weeks that had followed, the result of many long talks that had at first been about Jaime's parents but had soon expanded into everything that had been left unsaid between the two of them. Slowly, they had begun exploring the possibility that they could still have a future together and Jaime had finally taken the huge step of renting a house in DC, supposedly to be more available for assignments. Oscar knew the real reason had nothing to do with the OSI or any potential missions, but he was overjoyed that his two favorite people were working their way back to each other. He was especially relieved that Steve was by her side now; she was going to need him.

"Not necessarily bad," Oscar began gently, "but I've never been comfortable talking about personal matters over the phone, and I wanted to be available to answer any questions that I could -"

"We appreciate that," Steve told him, pulling a chair as close as possible to Jaime's. He, too, was worried about her state of mind.

"While it isn't _bad_ news," Oscar continued, "it may not be what you were expecting." He noticed that Jaime was clutching Steve's hand, her entire body as taut as a rubber band stretched to the breaking point. "Jaime, your mother was on her way to a top-secret, Level 8 security briefing, at an undisclosed location."

"Level _eight_...?"

Oscar nodded. "Your father was supposed to pick up Chris when he dropped off your mother, then head back home, as though he and his wife were merely out for a drive, enjoying the Springtime." He eyed Jaime carefully, wondering if she was realizing what he'd left unsaid, if she'd picked up the truly serious nature of this new information.

It took her a few minutes to digest and process his words. "_My mother was Level 8_...?" she repeated, stunned.

"Yes."

Jaime got up and walked to the window, where she stood silently, deep in thought, with her back to the two men who were both watching her closely. Oscar knew Steve had the situation figured out by the dark, serious look in his eyes. They both knew the exact instant the realization hit her because Jaime began to visibly tremble, her head lowering until she covered her face with both hands, too overwhelmed to speak. She swayed slightly, looking for a moment like she was going to faint.

Steve rushed to her side, ready to catch her if necessary. He reached out to hold her, but Jaime turned around, almost trance-like with shock and walked slowly back to her chair. Her eyes were wide but held no tears as she finally voiced the truth.

"My father would've picked Chris up where the briefing was held – at the _undisclosed, Level 8 _location." She swallowed hard. "Even being married to an operative, there was no way he could know where that meeting was...unless..._he was an operative, too! _Oscar, why didn't you tell me this before?"

"I didn't know," Oscar said, very softly. "Unfortunately, there is no further information about him in our files, but you're right; he had to have gotten the location from somewhere, and it wasn't from Ann."

"If he wasn't in the files," Steve deduced, "then he wasn't OSI, right?"

"No, he wasn't. After I talked to Russ, I put a call in to FBI Headquarters – called in a favor – and they ran a cross-check. James Sommers wasn't their operative either."

"NSB, then?" Jaime concluded.

"Babe, I wish I could answer that. I spoke with Jack Hansen, to arrange for him to meet with the three of us, and he said he'd be right over."

"Well, good," Jaime sighed. "He should be able to clear this up for me, once and for all."

"He's...not coming," Oscar told her.

Steve was livid. _"Why the hell not?"_

"He asked what we needed to talk to him about, and when I told him, Jack informed me he had nothing to say about James Sommers, and...he hung up the phone."

- - - - - -


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

"But...he can't do that!' Jaime protested. "I'm not asking for classified information about some stranger; we're talking about _my father_!"

"Babe," Oscar admitted reluctantly, "without a court order, we're asking him to tell us out of the goodness of his heart -"

"Which he doesn't have," Steve muttered. "Goodness, or a heart."

"What if I went over there and talked to Jack myself?" Jaime suggested. "I could explain to him who we're talking about, and how important this is to me..."

"He knows, Jaime," Oscar told her, as gently as possible. "I told him we wanted to ask him about your father – that was all I said – and Hansen came up with the name _James_ without my having to give it to him."

"So he does have information; he just won't share it," she said in a small, sad voice. "And Dad must've been NSB...I mean, it's not like he was a foreign spy or anything..."

Steve placed a loving hand on her arm. "Sweetheart, we don't know for sure -"

"My father was **_not _**a traitor!"

"No, of course not," Steve agreed, trying his best to soothe her, but not quite sure himself, given everything they'd just learned. "We have to be careful not to jump to conclusions about any of this. We need facts – you need answers. _I'm_ going over to reason with Jack," he announced, the implied threat hanging heavily in the room.

"_**Sit down, Pal**,_" Oscar insisted. "That isn't the way to handle this."

"Yeah, well, I'd like to _handle _that Jack -"

"Steve!"

"- Hansen," he finished, meaning something else entirely.

"We can't get a court order, can we?" Jaime asked. "Since there's no life-or-death reason for needing to know."

"No, we probably can't," Oscar told her.

"He obviously knows _something_," Jaime added miserably. "Don't I have the right...?"

Oscar shook his head. "Morally, ethically – yes. Legally – no."

Jaime stared at the floor, and when she finally spoke again, it was more to herself than the men who both ached to help her. "I'm gonna find out what he's got...I _have_ to." She looked up at Steve, her eyes suddenly brightening with inspiration. "What time do you think most of the 'suits' over there go home for the night?"

Steve saw right away where her train of thought was going, and he was willing to do anything for the woman he'd always loved so deeply. "Oscar?" he asked in a hopeful voice.

"Now wait just a minute," Oscar protested, rising to his feet, "if I were to even suspect you were planning to breach the security of a U.S. Government building, I'd be obligated to put you both into immediate Federal custody." He headed toward the office door. "You know, I've worked up quite an appetite here. Think I'll run down to the deli; I've got a real craving for pastrami on rye." He opened the door, then paused and turned around again, smiling. "Oh, and Jaime? If you did decide to try and schedule a meeting with Jack Hansen, tomorrow morning is definitely out. He'll be across the street, in meetings with the FBI until at least noon; so will most of his top operatives and his chief security officers." With that, he was gone.

Jaime and Steve smiled knowingly at each other. Once again, no words were needed; they were on exactly the same wavelength. Steve flashed her an evil grin and attempted to lighten the mood.

"So...you think Oscar'll bring us back a sandwich?"

- - - - - -

The next morning, before the sun was entirely over the horizon, Steve and Jaime returned to OSI Headquarters, in a much different capacity than they'd been there the night before. Steve's car was in a parking garage, several blocks away, instead of his space in the agency's lot. They didn't stop to admire the Tranquility fountain or pass through the front entrance to check in with the receptionist. Instead, they moved silently, with bionic speed, to the area behind the building, pausing there before making their next move.

"Steve," Jaime whispered, "you don't have to do this. If we get caught..."

"We should be able to get to where we need to be from the top of our building," Steve said softly. "If we get up there now, I'll be able to see when Hansen and the others do their little Penguin March across the street. Then, we move."

"_Steve_ -"

"You coming, or not?" he replied, effortlessly making the eight-story leap onto the roof of the OSI building. A fraction of a second later, Jaime had landed safely and noiselessly beside him. Moving perfectly in sync with each other, they sat down in a spot hidden from the street by a heat vent, where Steve was still able to focus on the entrances of the NSB and FBI buildings.

They didn't have to wait long before Steve spotted what he'd been waiting for. "They're gone," he said quickly. "Let's go." They paused for a split second on the edge of the rooftop, focusing their aim, and then jumped in unison to a selected ledge on the top floor of the neighboring NSB Headquarters. Steve kept his eye focused on the FBI building across the street while Jaime pried open the barred window into Jack Hansen's office.

The massive computer bank covered the entire far wall of the office. Steve typed in the needed access codes for the main memory (which had been in a file Oscar had 'accidentally' left on his desk when he'd left for his deli run), and the screen came to life. Jaime held her breath as she watched Steve type her father's name into the inquiry box. The display flickered, and Jaime gasped involuntarily as the lines came into focus.

**_James Sommers –_** _subject of investigation terminated. File deleted._

- - - - - -


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Steve typed in a few more words and tried another code, but no more information surfaced. "That's it," he said softly. "I tried recovering the file, but...it's gone."

"_Subject of the investigation_ – what the hell does that mean?" Jaime wondered aloud.

Steve began shutting down the computer. "I'm not sure, but how about if we discuss it on our own turf? Maybe Oscar can help."

Jaime nodded, and the two headed back out of the window, the way they'd come in, with Jaime pausing to carefully bend the bars back into place and close the glass frame. "Do you think he knew we were coming?" she mused, once they were safely on the ground.

"I doubt it," Steve answered. "I know Oscar wouldn't tell him."

"Oscar doesn't know – remember?"

"Yeah, right." Steve snaked a gentle arm around Jaime's waist, and they headed around to the front of OSI Headquarters. He noticed that she didn't even glance at the fountain, and guessed (correctly, of course) that she just wasn't feeling very tranquil.

"Is Oscar up there?" Jaime asked the receptionist, heading toward the elevators before the girl could finish answering.

"He is, but -" the receptionist shook her head and fell silent, realizing the elevator had already swallowed up the couple.

Inside the express elevator, Jaime fell into Steve's arms, physically and emotionally spent. Steve held her tenderly, even as they stepped off into Oscar's outer office. Callahan wouldn't be arriving for another hour or so, and Oscar's inner door was closed, so they stood alone together while Jaime dissolved into quiet sobs and Steve searched in vain for the right words to comfort her. Gradually, the tears subsided and they embraced tightly and made their way – without knocking – into Oscar's office.

"I've been waiting for you," he told them from his desk. A cup of coffee sat in front of him, with two more waiting on the other side of the desk, in front of two chairs. "Please, sit down." He waited until they'd gotten comfortable and had coffee in hand and then, noting Jaime's tear-stained face, he went on. "I'm guessing you found something?"

"Yeah," Steve confirmed, "we -"

"Wait. First, I have to ask that you not tell me _where_ or _how_ you obtained your information."

Steve nodded. "We know."

"The NSB was _investigating _my father!" Jaime blurted out in a shaky voice. "Their comp – I mean, the information we found said 'subject of investigation terminated'. Oscar, I think they had him killed!"

"We know that's a serious accusation," Steve interjected, "even against a creep like Hansen, but what other conclusion is there? Especially since everything else they knew has been...removed."

Oscar frowned. "Removed?"

"Deleted. Gone. Unrecoverable – Hansen saw to that, I'm sure," Steve growled.

"They may have been investigating him, for whatever reason, without being the ones who had him – or Ann – killed," Oscar pointed out, very quietly.

"Oscar, we can theorize until our faces turn blue, and still have no concrete answer for Jaime, to tell her why she had to lose both of her parents at way too young an age! The NSB is hiding something, which makes me ask – are they hiding the most important piece of the puzzle? I have no reason to think any other way. Hansen needs a firm meeting with the business end of my fist."

"Steve..." Jaime began, softly.

"I'll get him to talk about this, one way or another!"

"Steve -"

"You can't be reasonable with someone who has no reason -"

"_Steve!"_ Jaime sighed, and lowered her voice back to normal volume. "I have an idea. Oscar, where is Chris Stuart, right now?"

"She has 43 more days to serve in Federal. She's in Isolation, for her own safety."

"I need to see her."

Oscar smiled, just slightly. "I had a feeling you'd say that. There's a car waiting for you, right now."

- - - - - -

Jaime insisted – to Steve's dismay – on meeting with her mother's double alone, sending Steve back to Oscar's office with the driver. Since the Federal lock-up was less than a half hour from DC, she saw no reason for anyone to sit idle outside while she tried to find the answers she needed.

Now, as she was led through a series of concrete barriers, iron-barred doors and dark, creepy hallways, she found herself longing for Steve's supportive presence. _Knock it off,_ she chided herself. _You can do this!_ Soon, she was seated in a very small, confining room at an even smaller table, and a very pale-looking Chris was sent in to join her. Both women cringed slightly at the metallic clanging of the door that was locked behind her.

"Hi," Chris said in a voice that was both curious and kind. "You're the first visitor I've been allowed to see."

"Oscar has a long reach."

"I guess he does. What can I do for you, Jaime?"

Jaime dove right in. "Tell me about my father."

"What is it you'd like to know?"

"He was supposed to pick you up at that conference, the day my parents died. How did he know where that was?" Jaime watched closely for Chris's reaction, but the woman's face remained neutrally pleasant.

"I gave him the directions, on the phone, the night before."

"You did?" Jaime thought for a moment. "You were OSI then, right?"

"Yes; of course."

"But my father...who did he work for?"

"Excuse me?"

"He wasn't OSI _or _FBI," Jaime said. "I already know that."

"Ok."

"Chris, you told me once that you were a double agent." Jaime took a deep, steadying breath; she didn't want to know, but she _needed _to know. "When did you turn? When did you start working both sides? Was it before or after my parents were killed?" Chris stared down at the table, obviously not wanting to answer. "Please, Chris?"

"Before...Darling, I'm sorry, but it was your father who turned me."

- - - - - -


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Jaime's heart reeled and her mind screamed in disbelief as she stared across the table at the woman who could still pass for her mother. _My father was **not** a traitor!_ She waited in silence for Chris to tell her more.

"He introduced me to a group that he'd met through the University," Chris explained. "They were professors, from a number of foreign countries, who called themselves 'The Advocates'. Ann couldn't meet with them because of her position within the government, but I wasn't in her league, and James was fascinated by their thoughts on University and Government hierarchies. When their ideas became more radical and he realized they were much more than a discussion group, he tried to pull out, and they didn't want to let him go."

"Because he knew too much?"

"Yes, but more importantly, because they saw him as an open doorway into the United States government, via his wife's connection to the OSI." Chris's eyes began to brim with tears. "Of course, he should've turned to Ann for help, but he was afraid. They'd threatened to hurt her, and -" Chris shook her head and suddenly grew quiet, realizing she'd said much more than she'd intended to.

"And what? Chris, _please - _what else were you going to say?"

"Jaime...they were threatening _you._"

There wasn't much more for the women to talk about, after that. Jaime wanted to take what she'd learned back to Oscar and Steve, where they could help her decide what to do next. The guard phoned for the car to pick her up, but while Jaime sat in the vestibule to wait for her ride, she changed her mind. When the car arrived, with both Steve and Oscar inside this time, Jaime was gone.

- - - - - -

Oscar and Steve met very briefly with Chris, to determine what had set Jaime off and caused her to venture out on her own, then the two men reluctantly returned to OSI Headquarters to regroup. Oscar called Russ in Los Angeles, to have him pull any CDI files he could find that mentioned The Advocates, and he instructed two of his chief security officers to politely request Jack Hansen's presence, without giving him an option to refuse. When he'd finished making the calls, Oscar looked up and noticed the grim, deeply worried look on Steve's face and the way his hands had balled into tight fists.

"Maybe Jaime just went for a walk, to think about what Chris told her," he ventured, trying to reassure his friend.

"Oscar -"

"Right." They both knew that was not the case, not even within the realm of possibilities. "But Jaime's got a good head on her shoulders -"

"Which won't help her if she's thinking with her heart."

Oscar nodded. "Has she been dwelling on this ever since Chris Stuart popped up in Ojai?" he asked.

"I'm not sure. I think seeing Chris, believing at first that she was Ann and then finding out she wasn't, may have made Jaime start mourning her parents all over again – as an adult, this time. And finding out they were murdered..."

"I wish I'd never told her that."

"Oscar, you had to; she had the right to know."

"Maybe, but now she may have jumped right into the center of something that's way over her head." He looked up as his office door opened. His security officers had acted quickly. "Mr. Hansen – please have a seat."

Jack Hansen scowled. "You had me dragged out of a very important meeting, Goldman."

"For _another_ important meeting," Oscar told him. "Tell us everything you know about a group called 'The Advocates'."

Jack's faced paled, and he seemed to shrink back in his chair. "Discussion group at the University, from what I understand," he said in a voice that had tried for 'casual' but failed.

"Hansen, we aren't fooling around here; we don't have time for the NSB run-around," Steve growled through gritted teeth.

"Started as a simple discussion group," Jack continued. "A place for the University staff from other countries to get together for support. When a portion of them splintered off, though, that wasn't so innocent."

Steve was long past impatient. "We _know_ that."

Jack began to rise from the chair. "Then I guess you don't need me."

Steve pushed him back down, much more gently than he would've liked to. "_Sit down._ Are they still in existence?"

"Which part?"

"**Dammit**, Hansen – we're not playing around! Take your pick." Steve was seething, but Oscar stayed silent, letting him have the first go at Jack, figuring his friend could cross lines that the OSI Director could not.

"The discussion group is still very much alive and kicking. They're harmless enough; even sanctioned by the University."

"And the others? Are they still around?"

"I suppose they are...portions of their group, anyway. But they went underground years ago; wouldn't be easy to find – although I doubt anyone would want to."

"Years ago...about _ten _years ago?" Steve surmised.

"Yes, I suppose that's accurate. Why do you ask?"

"Someone very close to me is most likely trying to find them, right now."

"You don't mean Miss Sommers, do you?"

"Yes. Jaime Sommers."

"If she does find them, and they realize she's James Sommers' daughter...they'll kill her on the spot."

- - - - - -

At almost precisely the same moment, somewhere in Virginia, a door flew open – courtesy of a bionic foot. Jaime, too angry to consider the implications of what she was doing, stood in the center of a large warehouse-type meeting room, with half a dozen pairs of startled eyes staring back at her.

"Hello," she said, through clenched teeth that mirrored Steve's, "I believe you knew my father."

- - - - - -


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

"Who might you be?" the man furthest from the door asked with a chuckle. He seemed too taken aback by the fact that a beautiful, young woman was suddenly in their midst to consider that she'd just breached their security. "An early Christmas present? We musta been awful good! If we knew your daddy, remind me to thank him!" He turned to call over his shoulder to someone in an adjoining room. "Hey, Oz, looky what we got!"

Jaime paused, confused. Had her friend, the Dean, sent her to the wrong place? If this was a joke, she was _not _in the mood. When the man called 'Oz' emerged, she knew there'd been no mistake. He was huge, burly and almost the perfect cliché of a 'bad guy', but dressed in clothing several cuts above that of his cohorts, loudly proclaiming his status as being many levels above them.

"Hello, Little Lady," he said in a low, unfriendly voice. "I'd _love_ to hear exactly who your father is, right after you explain what you just did to my door."

- - - - - -

Steve could feel his heart jack-hammering as he continued to question Hansen. "If they _are _still out there, where would I find them?"

"I've never had anything to do with those people, and I don't intend to start now."

Steve's hands were in tight fists again, and they both had Jack Hansen's name on them. "Look," he said, struggling to keep his voice even, "if you don't start giving me _answers_ – and I mean the _right_ ones – you won't have to worry about The Advocates. When I get done with you, the only pieces left will be too small for them to do anything with!." Steve squatted in front of Hansen's chair, his face within inches of his adversary's. "I'm only asking you one more time," he said in a very soft voice that soon grew into a roar, "**_Where are they_**?"

"I don't know," Jack stammered, thoroughly cowed. "I really don't. But you could try the main office at the University."

"Los Angeles?"

"_Virginia._"

Oscar picked up the phone. "I'm on it."

Steve nodded. "Jack and I will just keep on with our friendly little chat. Won't we, Buddy?" Jack just stared. Steve stood up but continued to hover threateningly. "How'd they end up out here?"

"The original group is still in California. The splinter cell moved to Virginia when their leader transferred there – much closer to the heart of our government."

"Their leader," Steve probed, "is...who?"

"They've got someone named Ozwold in charge at their headquarters, but their real boss is...the Dean."

- - - - - -

"What about the door?" Jaime hedged. "I opened it."

"You made splinters out of it," Oz corrected. "Just how were you able to do that?"

Jaime shrugged, her eyes wide with feigned innocence. "Must not know my own strength, I guess..."

"Why don't you come back to my office, where we can talk in private?" he suggested.

"I like these guys," she said lightly. "I'd rather talk here." _By the open door, _she finished silently. She hadn't been expecting more than two or three people, but had no doubt she could still handle things just fine.

"Ain't never seen a woman do _that_ before," one of the other men drawled. "To what do we owe the privilege?"

"Yes," a new voice agreed from just outside the doorway. "Why don't you tell them why you're here, _Jaime_?"

Jaime turned toward the newcomer and nearly gasped out loud. _This,_ she hadn't been prepared for. It was her 'friend', Dean Joseph Branson.

- - - - - -

Steve fought back the urge to strike Hansen; this was harder than pulling teeth, and he simply didn't have the time for it. _Jaime _didn't have the time. "Why was the NSB investigating Jaime's father?"

"Excuse me? Where did you get that idea?"

"Never mind. What, exactly, were you investigating him for?"

"We weren't exactly investigating _him_; he was helping us keep tabs on the splinter group, once they'd started to break away. He was uncomfortable with what they were trying to lead him into, and apparently some threats were being made, so he came to us – to me – for help."

"Did James Sommers work for you, or not?" Steve queried, still thinking he'd prefer to be punching Hansen in the face.

"No – he never did."

"Once the investigation was over, when you couldn't use him anymore, _did you have him 'terminated'_?"

"Of course not!" Jack exclaimed. "They wanted him eliminated because he refused to cooperate – he wasn't going with the program, so to speak. He also appeared to be first in line to be appointed the new Dean, and of course they wanted their own man, Branson, since Sommers was proving he wasn't one of them."

"The Advocates had James and Ann killed?"

"Not exactly; it was supposed to be James and Chris Stuart. They considered her a loose end, especially if Sommers was about to be eliminated. They shot out a tire on the car, while it was at the sharpest curve on that road, but they screwed up and Ann died instead, although I don't think they knew it at the time."

"Who, _exactly_, fired that shot? Was it Branson?"

"No. It was per his instructions, but the man who fired the shot was the one named Ozwold."

Oscar hung up the phone, and his worry lines deepened. "First, I called Dean Branson's office. He was on his way out, but he told me he received a very strange phone call from Jaime, about an hour ago."

"Right after she left the detention center," Steve stated.

"Right. Branson said she was asking questions about her parents, and also about The Advocates, and he said he told her they'd disbanded years ago. He suggested she come back here and talk to me because someone was leading her down a blind alley -"

Steve realized Oscar hadn't heard his conversation with Jack. "Oscar, he's lying!"

"I know he is, Pal. When we hung up, I phoned the main receptionist, and she told me that Jaime had just called back a few minutes earlier, asking if the Dean could meet her at a certain address, the address _he'd given her_, but he was already gone."

"Jack just told me Branson's been leading the cell that broke off from The Advocates. He sent Jaime straight into a trap!"

- - - - - -


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

The Dean stepped just inside the doorway and stared coldly at Jaime. His eyes were hard, cruel and as different from the eyes of the 'family friend' she'd known since childhood as they could possibly get.

"You set me up," she said softly, while her mind scrambled to come up with a new plan of action.

"You always were a smart girl," Branson countered. He pulled a pistol from his suit jacket and leveled it at Jaime.

"You know her, Boss?" someone asked.

"We all do. She's James Sommers' daughter." His eyes never left Jaime, even as he cocked the gun. "Now that she's found us, she'll have to meet the same fate he did."

"She's just a kid!"

Jaime struggled with her conflicting emotions. "You...killed them."

"Well, I can't personally take credit, but it was unavoidable. You've succeeded in making your own death equally inevitable, my dear."

Jaime turned away from him, toward Oz and the door that opened into the next room. Oz pulled and aimed his own gun, sneering at her. "Did you see the door?" Oz marveled to his boss.

Branson looked briefly at the entryway. "What door?"

"Exactly. This little bitty girl did _that_."

"Did she? Perhaps my old friend's daughter and I need a bit of 'catching-up' time...before I kill her." He grabbed Jaime's left arm, his fingers digging deeply into her flesh and his gun pressing firmly into the small of her back as he shoved her toward the other side of the room. "We're going back there, to the office," he told her, pulling her with one hand and pushing her with the gun. "Wave goodbye to your new friends here, because I really don't think you'll be coming back out."

- - - - - -

"Do you have the address?" Steve asked anxiously.

"They're in Virginia, about five miles south of Bowling Green – two blocks from the Dean's office," Oscar told him, thankful for the cooperation of a very frightened receptionist.

"We'll never make it in time!"

"I've already got our teams and the Virginia State Police headed that way, and we're taking the Medivac; be there in less than 15 minutes. Let's go."

Jack stood up as well. "I'm coming with you. I'll help in any way I can."

_Fifteen minutes...Jaime's gonna need more than a Medivac, _Steve thought, following Oscar and Jack out the door.

- - - - - -

The Dean forced Jaime into a chair and then sat down across from her, his gun still raised and threatening. "I got a phone call, right before coming over here to meet you. Guess who it was from?" Jaime stared at him mutely. "Oscar Goldman; he was oh-so-worried about the daughter of his deceased operative and her also-deceased husband. Seems the poor, little orphan heard something that upset her and took off, all by herself without saying 'boo' to anyone first."

Even though the word 'orphan' cut Jaime to the core – always had – and she was shocked that Oscar was already trying to find her, she kept her face neutrally blank and her voice silent. Branson shook his head. "You didn't just knock down that door – you _annihilated_ it, and you've got Oscar Goldman looking for you. You're not just the daughter of an operative, are you?"

Jaime was waiting for the right moment, and realized she'd better find one soon. The Dean pulled his chair closer and gave her a look that was almost a leer. "You must work for good old Oscar yourself. I doubt he'd be this worried about the mere daughter of someone who's been dead ten years."

"Someone who was your friend...someone **_you killed_**," Jaime said.

"That's old news, ancient history -"

"Not to me," she insisted stubbornly, trying to ignore the gun.

"How _did _you destroy the door, my dear? Judo kick? Karate? _Bionics_? I'll bet that's it. I met Rudy Wells back when creating cyborgs was just an idea in his head. Those gorgeous legs of yours aren't really flesh and blood, are they? I think we should find out." He turned and opened a drawer in the little table behind him. When Jaime saw that he was grabbing a knife, she knew _this_ was the moment she _had_ to act. The gun was still pointed at her, but Branson's attention, for a split second, was diverted.

Jaime reached over and grabbed the gun by its barrel, twisting it into a pretzel before the Dean had time to react, then, as he spun around to face her, she planted her foot squarely in the center of his chest and sent him (along with his chair) crashing to the floor. Not allowing him to regain his senses, Jaime lifted him up by the front of his shirt and punched him in the stomach. "That's for my parents," she told him, then slapped him hard (but not bionically) across the face. "And that's for me," she said, exorcising her demons and rendering him unconscious at the same time.

"Very impressive," Oz said from the office doorway. "Must've forgotten there are seven of us between you and the outside world, though."

Gut instinct told Jaime that _this _was the man she'd been looking for – the one who'd killed her parents – and she knew if she hit him, he'd be dead. She was far too angry to let him off that easily. Instead, she locked her eyes into his and slowly walked straight toward him, staring at him instead of his gun and stunning him with her apparent lack of fear.

"Are you crazy?" he snarled. "Do you _want _me to shoot you?"

Jaime was undeterred. "Do you know how old I was when you made me an orphan?" She advanced toward him **very **slowly, her eyes boring into his. "_Sixteen._ I was a sixteen-year-old _kid_, and thanks to you I was all alone in the world! Do you know what that did for me, though?" They were nearly toe-to-toe now, and the gun was pointed directly between her eyes. "I learned to fend for myself at a very early age." Very calmly, she wrapped her left hand around the barrel, and his shock allowed her to reposition it to point toward the ceiling. He attempted to bring it back down, but she caught his arm with her right hand and held it straight up and motionless as he pulled the trigger. The bullet tore into the ceiling, and Jaime tightened her grip. "I'll break your arm, if you make me," she stated in a matter-of-fact voice. "Drop the gun - _now_."

With her now-free left hand, she reached into her pocket and removed the pretzel-gun, holding it up where he could see it. "This used to be your boss's gun. Now, you have two choices: I can do this to your weapon...or to you. What'll it be?" Wordlessly, he released the weapon. "Wise choice. Now, get on the floor and don't move." As her parents' murderer obediently hit the ground, Jaime looked up at the half-dozen wide-eyed men in the next room. "Who's next?" she asked.

- - - - - -


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

The Medivac landed in a parking lot across the street from the abandoned storefront and warehouse, and Steve was out before the blades had stopped spinning. "Steve, the State Police will be here any minute," Oscar called over the resulting wind. "Wait for them – you may need back-up."

"They can join me when they get here," he called over his shoulder.

"_Steve_!"

Jack joined Oscar in the parking lot, and they watched Steve speed toward Jaime. "Did you really think he'd wait?" Jack mused.

"Of course not, but I had to say it." Oscar, too, began heading for the warehouse.

"Oscar?"

"She's like my daughter, Jack, and she needs help. Besides, reinforcements are coming." He stopped just outside the building. "You wait out here, and point the way for them."

"Wrong. They have the address, and someone has to watch your back."

- - - - - -

The gunshot into the ceiling sounded just as Steve entered the warehouse. "Jaime!" he called, racing across the room toward the source of the shot. To his amazement (and with a deep sense of pride in her abilities), Steve found Jaime standing guard over two men who were flat out on the floor, with six others scattered against the wall, their hands in the air. Jaime had apparently just finished grinding a gun into scrap beneath her foot.

"Are you alright?" he asked quietly.

"Whoever you are, Buddy," one of the 'wall' men stammered, "I wouldn't go getting the lady angry. Best to just stay outta her way."

Steve saw that Jaime wasn't visibly injured, and he chuckled at the man's remark. "Never happen," he said, intending his comment solely for the owner of the hazel eyes he'd never been more relieved to gaze into.

Jaime met Steve's gaze with a serious expression. "I'm ok," she confirmed. "You'd better take this one off my hands, though," she told him, motioning to 'Oz'. "Steve...he's the one."

"The one?" Steve was confused for a moment, then it hit him. _She did it; she actually found a murderer, after ten years! _He nodded, looking up to acknowledge Oscar and Jack, who were just joining them. The sound of multiple sirens wailing to a stop filled the air. "Jaime's got this wrapped up," he told his boss. "We can all go home. Jack – got your handcuffs?" He pointed at Ozwold. "Murder One for him."

"The so-called Dean, too," Jaime said softly, "once the paramedics finish with him. He's not dead; I just gave him about one percent of the pain and destruction he caused my family." She leaned into Steve with a sigh of exhaustion and relief. "Can we get outta here now?"

Steve's arms enveloped Jaime tenderly as he led her out of the office and the warehouse. "Wouldn't wanna get the lady angry."

- - - - - -

Because Steve and Oscar insisted, Jaime let Rudy check her over before Steve took her home. The last 24 hours had taken their toll, and she slept for 16 hours straight, while Steve dozed on her sofa, far more worried about Jaime than he was about getting a good night's sleep. Rudy had warned him that the emotional trauma she'd suffered had likely not hit her yet, and Steve wanted to be available to comfort her if she woke up feeling alone and afraid.

When he heard the first stirring sounds coming from the bedroom, Steve placed a roast beef sandwich, fruit salad, cold milk and hot coffee on a tray he'd found in the kitchen, along with a flower, and took it to Jaime. She had just thrown back the covers and was about to get up when she saw him and grinned happily.

"Oooh – breakfast in bed!"

"Actually, it's lunch," Steve told her, helping her get re-situated before placing the tray on her lap. "I made the sandwich, but it wasn't too complicated; should be edible."

Jaime reached out her arm and drew him in for a kiss. "It looks great – thank you. But what's the occasion?"

"Aside from wanting to throttle you for taking off on your own yesterday, I have never been prouder of you. Things could've so easily gone the other way. Ya done good, Sweetheart." Jaime beamed at him. "Oh," he told her, "Oscar called a little while ago. Branson and Ozwold both gave full confessions. They were pretty tight-lipped at first, until Oscar told them if they didn't start talking he'd bring _you_ in to do the interrogating."

"That cracked 'em, huh?" she asked, taking a second bite of her sandwich.

"Like a couple of eggs. One more thing...Jack Hansen wants to meet with you in his office, whenever you're ready."

"Why?"

"He didn't say. Oscar didn't sound too worried about it, so I'm sure it isn't anything bad, but if you don't want to...I mean, he did blow you off when you asked him for a meeting -" Steve looked at her closely, but was unable to quite read her reaction. "Since I know you pretty well, I'm gonna take a stab and say you're going anyway, aren't you?"

"Soon as I finish eating."

"I'll come with you."

"Thanks, but I think I need to do this alone. Besides, I've got another place I need to go afterward. And lunch is really good, by the way; your skills are improving."

"Guess you're a good influence," Steve mused, smiling back at her.

- - - - - -


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

"What'd you want to see me about?" Jaime asked Hansen, getting straight to the point.

"I owe you more of an apology than I could give in this lifetime, Jaime. I should've met with you when you wanted to talk about your father."

"Why didn't you?"

"It's a huge sore spot for me; a blemish on my good record. I was ashamed. James came to this agency for help, and we failed him." He looked at the young woman across the desk, his face lined with regret and sadness. "We failed you, too. I am so sorry. If you have any questions for me, I'll answer them – I owe you that much."

"So you weren't really investigating my father?" she asked softly.

"No. We were investigating The Advocates and their off-shoots – _for_ your father and with his help. He volunteered to aid in the investigation since they wouldn't let him go anyway."

"Sort of a double agent."

"Exactly. Your father was no traitor, Jaime. He wanted to do right by his government, and we let him down. We just never saw it coming."

"Why was his file deleted?"

Hansen blinked. "Guess the same little birdie that told Steve about that, told you as well."

"Guess so."

"My right-hand man at the time got rid of the files to try and cover up the fact that we'd been working with a so-called member of the other side, and the fact that he'd subsequently been killed. Once he'd done that and I had no way to get the information back again, I went along with it. I wish I hadn't, but that's the entire truth. Your father was a hero, not a traitor."

Jaime nodded. "Thank you. That's means a lot, and...it does help." She got up to go.

"Jaime? How _did_ you and Steve know the files had been deleted?"

"Little birdies work in mysterious ways, Jack."

- - - - - -

Jaime sat down at the edge of the river and opened her backpack, taking out two bottles, two yellow roses and two pictures: her mother, and her father. "Mom, Dad, it's finally over," she whispered, placing one rose and one picture in each of the bottles and sealing them. "The people who took you away from me are never gonna see the light of day – ever again. I wish that could bring you back, but at least we finally have justice. You can rest in peace, and I can finally say a proper goodbye." She set the two bottles in the water and watched them slowly drift away. Jaime felt a warmth spread through her body, as though she were being hugged, and she felt sure that wherever Ann and James were now, they were both smiling.

END


End file.
